


We All Need Friends

by mirror_cannibal



Series: mirror_cannibal's Mess of Crossovers [1]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), Constantine (TV), Hellblazer & Related Fandoms, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Multi, a lot of pov changes, also i'm thinking of bringing in the preacher fandom, anyway, but yea mostly constantine, constantine-centric, i don't even know what this is, i literally just wanted to see certain characters together, it's a mess, it's like three fics in one, the most self-indulgent fic i've ever written, the sequel would probably be more constantine/supernatural, there may be a sequel, why hasn't there been a constantine/preacher crossover yet???, you don't really have to be in all the fandoms to understand it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-05 03:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11569011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mirror_cannibal/pseuds/mirror_cannibal
Summary: Team Arrow needs Constantine's help again.Constantine meets the legendary Winchester brothers.Things happen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ok, so bear with me on this story. It's literally a mess, and the most self-indulgent thing I've ever written. I took some stuff from the Constantine show, and some stuff from the Hellblazer comics, so it's not all accurate. I also put Ravenscar in America, next to Star City, for reasons. Just don't question half the things you read, and you should be good. Also, I'm American, and have no idea how to write British characters, so I apologize for every line of John's dialogue. Anyway.

“And bloody stay down!” John shouted at the now-unmoving body on the ground, panting. It had taken three visions from Zed, one life from Chas, and about thirty different spells to get the murdering monster sent back to Hell. John straightened, glancing over at Chas’s body, which was slowly twitching back to life under Zed’s worrying eye. She looked up at him.

“He’s gonna be fine,” she sighed, as if to assure herself rather than John. John merely nodded, catching his breath. Suddenly his phone rang, startling them. Zed looked shocked. “No one ever actually calls that number,” she half-laughed, though her expression remained confused.

“Plenty of people request my services, love,” John retorted, digging the phone out of his trench coat pocket. “This is John Constantine, what the hell do you want?” he answered.

“John, it’s Oliver.” Oliver sounded just as John remembered: stiff and serious.

“Ah,” John held back a laugh. “Last time I saw you, you’d been messing around with the Lazarus Pit. What now?” He turned away from Zed’s questioning face and Chas’s groaning.

“I’m not...sure,” Oliver said hesitantly.

“Bloody hell,” John sighed. “At least give me an idea of what I’m gonna be working with, mate.”

In answer, Oliver only said, “How quickly can you get to Star City?” After a brief pause, he added, slightly reluctantly, “I need your help.”

Inwardly denying the thrill he felt at hearing those last words, especially from Oliver, John gave it a quick thought and said, “Give me a day, mate.”

“Thank you, John.” Oliver sounded relieved. 

“Yeah, yeah.” John sighed and hung up, turning to Zed, who was helping Chas sit up.

“Who was that?” Zed asked, gaze sharp and questioning.

John waved off the question. “Ah, just an old mate who needs some help. I’ll have to go to Star City for a few days, you two want to come with or stay?”

“I got nothing else to do,” Zed shrugged, but John could see the glint of curiosity in her eyes at the mention of Star City; she was probably wondering how he knew anyone from a city like that.

Chas let out a sigh. “I gotta make sure you don’t get yourself killed.” John grinned at that, knowing that Chas wouldn’t let him out of his sight ever since they’d started their whole ‘open relationship’ thing.

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” John reassured him, “hopefully. Anyway, we ought to leave now. By the sounds of it, this is somewhat of a time-sensitive issue. Chas, mate, you ok to drive?” Chas took a moment to stand and shake out his limbs, then nodded. John stretched, not looking forward to the long car ride, then said, “Alright, let’s go.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, how do you know this guy?” Zed asked after they’d been on the road for a few hours. 

John sighed against the passenger window, then turned to look at Zed, who was in the backseat. “Well, love, I met the man while obtaining the Staff of Horace, during which he saved my life. Then I paid him back for that by restoring his friend’s soul a few years later. Now we’ve got some sort of agreement to help each other out whenever we need it.” He turned back to the window, expecting that to be the end of it.

Zed made a dissatisfied humming noise. “Who is he?”

John let out another breath. “Name’s Oliver Queen, he’s some sort of ex-military vigilante who runs around the city serving out justice and whatnot.”

“Oliver _Queen_?” Zed repeated, a note of disbelief in her voice. 

Even Chas looked over at John in surprise. “Isn’t he the _mayor_ of Star City?” Chas broke in.

“Oh, is he now?” John shifted in his seat, trying to find a more comfortable position. “Good on him. Never woulda figured, with a personality like his.”

“What do you mean?” Zed asked. “He was just another billionaire playboy, wasn’t he? You said ‘ex-military’, how does that fit in?”

“Um…” John realized he really didn’t know all that much about Oliver Queen, just what he’d observed while they were on the island together and when they’d met back up later. “Well, I met him on an island...he was with some sort of military organization then, I think...didn’t pay much attention to it, honestly, just wanted to get the staff and go. That wasn’t a place you wanted to stay at any longer than necessary, love.”

“What was the staff?” Zed was leaning forward in her seat now, apparently excited by the line of questioning.

“Calm down,” John grumbled, “It wasn’t anything special, just something I had to grab before another man did. He was already on the island, too, it wouldn’t have been long until he’d gotten his grubby little hands on it.”

“Where is it now?”

“Don’t remember.” John was getting tired of answering her questions, and rolled down the window to light a cigarette. _That girl is too curious for her own good,_ he thought somberly as he took a breath of smoke, _hope it doesn’t get her into too much trouble, that._

  
  


* * *

  
  


Finally, Chas drove past the ‘Star City’ sign and John started giving him annoyingly vague directions to Oliver’s new lair or whatever he called it now. It was entertaining to Chas’s straight face slowly slipping with every “oh wait, I meant right” and “sorry, I think you have to loop around up here” until it finally cracked and Chas growled, “Just give me the bloody directions, John.” John finally showed mercy then, telling Chas that their final destination was the mayor’s office. With a few muttered curses and “I shoulda known”s, Chas turned the car around (yet again) and circled back to the building that John had sent him past about four times already.

John leapt out of the cab almost before it’d stopped, making his way to the door as Zed scrambled after him and Chas methodically parked and turned off the car. The door was unlocked, and John let himself in, Zed and Chas following. “Hullo,” John called out through the dark offices. “Oliver!” There was no answer. John turned to look at the two following him and shrugged. 

“John, goddammit, slow down,” Chas sounded annoyed, so John stopped and turned to him.

“What is it, mate?” John cocked his head, letting a smirk pull at his mouth. “Is this because of the bad directions?”

There was something dark and unfamiliar in Chas’s eyes, and it suddenly began to unnerve John. “It’s just…” Chas sighed, running a hand through his hair, and the unfamiliar darkness was gone, replaced by simple concern. “You always run off on your own. You said you’d stop doing that.”

“I have, mate, I have. That’s why I brought you two along with me, yeah?” John leaned into Chas’s personal space, knowing the taller man hated when he did that with other people around. “I know you’ll take good care of me, won’t you?” he whispered, hot and breathy on Chas’s neck. He felt a shudder run through Chas’s body, and wondered what the consequences would be if he kissed him, right then.

Zed suddenly gasped and pointed towards a corner. “There,” she gasped, “I see it, it’s...an elevator?”

John leaned away from Chas with a smirk and clapped Zed on the shoulder. “Good on you, love. If I remember correctly, that leads to where we want to go.” He walked into the corner, and the wall suddenly opened up before him, a sleek chrome elevator door opening after that. 

“Couldn’t anyone just accidentally walk into the corner and trigger the door opening?” Zed asked, brow furrowed as she followed John and Chas into the elevator.

“I guess so,” John said, the faults in the system making no more sense to him now than they did the last time he’d visited. The elevator went down, then stopped soundlessly and opened up.

“Whoa,” Zed breathed, practically floating into the tech- and weapon-filled room. Chas and John followed, glancing around for people and seeing only one seated at the computers.

“Hullo love,” John called out, recognizing the blonde as the one who’d filled his ingredients list for his spell the last time he’d been there. The blonde started, spinning around in her chair with wide eyes.

“Oh!” she said, “You’re, um...Constantine. We met. Before. When you saved Sara. Oliver said he called you again.” She seemed to notice Chas for the first time, who was looming protectively at John’s side. Then she turned to see Zed staring wide-eyed at the arrowheads. “Um. You brought friends. That’s...good. Great. The more the merrier, right?”

John rolled his eyes at her strange, start-and-stop way of babbling. “Where’s Oliver?” he asked.

“He’s out. Out on the streets, I mean. Fighting crime and whatnot. Which, actually, I’m supposed to be helping with. So, I’m just gonna...go back to that. You can, um, have a seat, if you’d like.” With that, she spun back to the computer and started typing away, muttering to herself every once in a while. 

John exchanged a glance with Chas, then started meandering around the Arrow Cave, scrutinizing all the little gizmos he hadn’t had a chance to check out the last time. He’d been in sort of a hurry, not caring enough to stick around and chat too much afterwards. “So, this Oliver guy,” Chas started, voice low, “You trust him, huh?”

“He’s one of my mates,” John replied, “‘Course I trust him.” He turned, fixed his gaze on Chas. “What, you don’t?”

Chas shrugged. “Just never met the guy. And you talk about him as if you respect him or something.” He tilted his head slightly. “You don’t respect anyone.”

“Oh?” John felt a grin tugging his mouth up. “Is this _jealousy_ I hear? _Chas,_ you devil!” He was full-on smiling now, unable to help it when Chas had such a cute pout on his face. “Not to worry, love,” John dropped his voice to a murmur, leaning forward and taking Chas’s face in his hands. “You’re the only one for me.” He said it with a smirk, but placed a quick kiss on his lips afterward. When he pulled away, Chas’s pout had disappeared and his cheeks had turned a delicious red.

“Guys, guys!” Zed bounded up to them, eyes shining. “This place is so cool! Better-looking than that dusty old millhouse anyway.”

John pulled his hands from Chas’s blushing cheeks, instead stuffing them into his pockets. “Don’t speak lowly of Jasper’s millhouse, love,” John warned, half-serious. Before he could expand, though, the elevator doors opened up and he heard voices. “Ah, looks like they’re back,” he flicked his eyes towards the group of people coming in, then back to Zed. “You get to meet the mayor of Star City, love.”

Zed was practically vibrating with excitement, but she hung back with John and Chas while the vigilantes made their way into the room and began discarding weapons and masks. They seemed to be in a good mood, so John ventured forth. “Oliver,” he greeted the Green Arrow, who turned and took his hand with a rare smile. 

“John!” Oliver replied, “It’s good to see you, how’ve you been?”

“Oh, you know,” John shrugged, not offering an answer more specific than that. He gestured behind him. “I brought friends this time. This is Zed Martin, psychic of sorts, and Chas Chandler, my best mate.” He realized belatedly that he probably should’ve introduced Chas as more than just his mate, but he wasn’t quite sure what they were yet. ‘Boyfriend’ didn’t quite seem to fit, though he supposed that was the correct label. He glanced over at Chas, who seemed perfectly ok with the introduction, so he decided not to stress needlessly over it.

“Right, right,” Oliver shook Chas’s hand, but before he could take Zed’s, John pulled him away. 

“Ahh, may not want to do that, mate,” John warned.

“Oh, sorry,” Zed apologized, flustered, sticking her hands in her pockets. “I forget sometimes.”

At Oliver’s confused expression, John explained, “Her visions are sometimes triggered by skin to skin contact. It’s not very pleasant for her when she touches people like...well, let’s just leave it at ‘people’, eh?” But by the stone-cold expression on Oliver’s face, John knew he had understood what he’d been about to say. _People like us. The broken ones. The hurt ones._

Oliver seemed to shake it off. “Well, I don’t think I ever properly introduced you to everyone here.” He turned behind him, gesturing first to a man in black. “This is John Diggle; you can call him Diggle or Dig.” He turned next to a small woman in red. “This is Thea, my sister.” He turned to glare at John and said in a harder voice, “Off limits.” Before John could even defend his honor, Oliver went on to point out a taller woman in black. “This is Laurel Lance, also off limits.” He turned next to the blonde at the computers. “And that is Felicity Smoak. Also incredibly off limits.”

“Off limits?” Zed repeated with a laugh. She tried to say more, but dissolved into more laughter. John glared at her, but it only seemed to make her laugh harder. Soon enough Chas joined in, and John crossed his arms and glowered at the both of them while the rest of Team Arrow looked on with confused smiles.

“Oh, go on then, laugh,” John snapped, “Laugh at the pain and hardships of my non-singleness. Go on.”

Oliver made a choking sound behind him. “John?” he gasped, “You’re...you’re _not_ single? Since _when?_ And _how?_ And _who?_ ”

“Oh, leave it,” John sighed, fishing a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it. “I didn’t come here for a social chat, now, did I? And you still haven’t told me why, exactly, I am here.”

“Right,” the blonde―Felicity, John remembered―spoke up, turning back to the computer. The rest of Team Arrow seemed to converge around her, so John hopped up onto the raised center of the room and watched the monitor as she worked to bring up page after page of information. John caught glimpses of death certificates, newspaper headlines about murder and insanity, and one word that stood out above the rest: Ravenscar.

“Bloody hell, you’ve got to be joking,” John groaned. “Tell me you didn’t call me because of that asylum, _please_ tell me you didn’t call me because of that _damn_ asylum.”

Oliver gave him a strange look. “No, we called you because of the _zombies_ , John.” 

John let out a sigh of relief. “Alright. Zombies. That sounds simple enough. Gimme the details, mate.” 

Felicity answered this time. “Well, there’ve been a number of escapees from this Ravenscar mental asylum, which is only one town over from Star City. Each escapee has a death certificate of just a few days prior to his or her escape, and has immediately gone on a killing spree once they got free. Normally I’d just think that staff were doctoring the reports to allow these escapes, but every encounter we’ve had with one of them has been strange; they seem to have superhuman strength and speed, and don’t seem to feel pain. We haven’t been able to subdue one without killing it. And so, we’ve begun to call them zombies.” She gave John a sideways glance. “Are they zombies?” 

Zed spoke up, enthusiasm bubbling up in her voice. “It sounds just like that one guy we found in―” 

“No, no, shut up for a moment, love,” John muttered, taking out another cigarette, pleased when no one complained about his smoking. He squinted at the monitor. “There,” he pointed, “Bring up that article.” Felicity zoomed in on a newspaper clipping about the recent escapees from Ravenscar. _‘All of these patients were previously under the care of Doctor Roger Huntoon, who claims that their therapy had been going well until their escapes…’_ “Ah, shite,” John mumbled, pacing once around the small circle, then again. He finished his cigarette, flicked it to the ground, stomped on it. “Fuckin’ pathetic excuse for a doctor, that one,” he finally said, pointing accusingly at the monitor. “I guarantee this is all his fault.” 

“Who?” They all looked back at the screen. Felicity read aloud, “Doctor Roger Huntoon?” 

“Yep, that’s the bloody wanker. Shoulda killed him when I had the chance, that’s what I shoulda done, see,” John let out a frustrated breath, pacing a few more laps while Team Arrow looked on with slightly worried expressions. 

Chas was the first to speak, his voice gentle and soft. “John, you know killing is never―” 

“Never what, Chas?” John interrupted, feeling the Hellfire blazing just beneath his skin, begging to be let out and just _burn_ something, anything, preferably that doctor’s bloody face. “He’s an evil one, I’m telling you. Deserves to burn in hell for all he’s done. And now he’s back at it, eh? I’ll kill him for sure this time, no more petty torture. It obviously doesn’t work on someone as insane as him.” 

“Torture?” Oliver echoed. “John, who is this guy?” 

“A shite doctor,” John snapped. “And I call dibs on killing him. So don’t you even think about doing it first, alright?” 

Oliver held up his hands in surrender. “Uh, ok...do you know what these zombie things are?” 

“Oh, yeah,” John nodded, “they’re the patients he’s failed and doesn’t care enough to fix again, so they’re left with nothing but the natural instinct to kill every threat they see. They’re just normal people, see, but the lack of most of their brain activity allows adrenaline and the like to overpower their bodies and send them into overdrive. It ultimately kills them, but Doctor _Huntoon_ ”―he says the name with a sneer―“doesn’t give a bloody rat’s arse.” 

There was a moment of silence while Team Arrow comprehended the fact that they’d been killing innocent, mentally unhinged humans. John lit another cigarette and daydreamed of drowning his memories of that asylum in whiskey. _I probably will, once I get to whatever shite motel I’ll be staying in tonight, if Chas doesn’t stop me first,_ John thought morosely. Now with the thought of whiskey in his mind, he had to ask: “You got any alcohol down here?” 

“John,” Chas said: a warning. 

“Fine, fine,” John sighed, “but that means you’re buying me a bottle when we get to the motel.” 

“He always buys the bottle,” Zed broke in absentmindedly, casually reaching over to pat John’s arm. Just before her fingers could touch the skin of his hand, John jumped back as if struck by lightning, and Zed pulled back just as quickly. “Sorry,” she breathed. 

“I’ve warned you,” John said, his voice low and on the verge of trembling, though he’ll never admit it. “Tread carefully, Zed.” He tossed his dead cigarette to the floor, grabbed another with barely-shaking hands. Casting a glance over the dead-silent Team Arrow, he rolled his eyes and asked sarcastically, “What, you want us to take it outside?” His voice was edged with a bit too much venom, but no one seemed to care. 

Oliver was the only one brave enough to step forward and ask straight-up, “John, what’s your history with this doctor, and this asylum?” 

For a moment John was silent, trying to think of a way to answer that without really answering it. Eventually he simply said, “That’s not something you get to ask, mate,” and, thankfully, Oliver left it at that. John paced some more; he was _really_ starting to crave a good bottle of whiskey. “Well, I’ll be back here tomorrow,” John said cheerily, grabbing Chas by the arm and tugging him towards the elevator. “I’ll sort out your problem for you then.” 

“John, _wait_ a minute,” Chas protested, but John dragged him into the elevator and jabbed at the button when it took too long to start moving. 

Zed stayed behind. “I’ll meet you guys at the motel,” she waved with a grin, but the rest of Team Arrow was silent and open-mouthed as the elevator doors finally closed. John sagged against the wall, groaning. 

“Goddamn Ravenscar,” he sighed, glancing up at Chas. “I do _not_ need to remember that place. Or that damned doctor. I should just leave, shouldn’t I?” 

“No, John,” Chas said quietly, “Oliver’s your friend, right? And you said you’d help him out. So you have to help him out. That’s what friends do, they make sacrifices for each other.” John was silent for a few moments, before he wordlessly reached over and took Chas’s hand in a rare show of emotion. Chas said nothing, just squeezing back in reassurance. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zed shares some stories and makes some friends, and then some other stuff happens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: some badly written gay smut ahead

Zed turned to the mayor of Star City the second the elevator doors closed. “So you’re really the mayor, huh?” she asked, “How do you do that and the vigilante thing? I find it hard enough just to follow John around with all the crazy shit he gets himself into. But this is an entirely different lifestyle. You guys are so... _organized,_ you know? It’s just...it’s so different.”

Thea speaks up for the first time since they came in. “What’s it like, working with Constantine? What kinds of things do you see?”

Zed took a seat, the rest of Team Arrow following suit. “Well, it’s very...spontaneous. He’s a smart guy, but he doesn’t like to think things through. He’ll do stupid shit and make a simple mistake and then beat himself up for days over it. One time he drank himself into such a deep hole I had to go in and psychically pull him out.” She let out a laugh. “ _That_ was not a fun trip. Walking through John Constantine’s mind…” she felt a shudder pass through her body. “It’s like walking through Hell itself. Which I have seen, incidentally, in his memories.”

“Wait,” Diggle broke in, “So Constantine’s actually been to Hell?”

“Oh, yes, several times,” Zed nodded. “It’s one of the things that makes it so painful to touch him. If I let myself relax too much and accidentally slip into a vision after touching him...let’s just say it’s not very healthy for either of us.”

“So what kinds of things _do_ you see?” Laurel repeated Thea’s other question, her eyes shining with imagination.

“Um…” Zed took a moment to think. “Well, the first time I met him we had to fight Welsh mining spirits, which were apparently not violent by nature but had been controlled by another miner’s wife, but John got the spirits to turn on her and drag her to Hell...and then there was this vinyl that controlled anyone who tried to play it and sent them into a murderous rage...I don’t think he actually got that one on his own, he never told us what happened in that radio tower. Oh, and there was another time with a hunger demon, that―” suddenly she stopped, remembering Gary, remembering his screams as he was slowly killed, remembering the terrifying look on John’s face after he’d left the room with a bruised hand and a simple, ‘it’s done’.

“Zed?” Oliver asked, waving a hand in her face. “Zed, are you ok?” 

She snapped back to herself. “Yes, what―what was I saying?” 

“Something about a hunger demon?” Thea prompted, excited by all the stories.

“Oh.” Zed was quiet for another moment. “Let’s just...forget I said that, ok? And...don’t tell John I mentioned it.” There were a few confused glances, but everyone agreed and Zed let out a nervous breath. “Anyway, uh...there’s this voodoo guy, Papa Midnite, who _hates_ John, but they had to team up for this one thing and it was the most _hilarious_ ―” she broke off laughing, and the rest of Team Arrow joined in, successfully raising the dull mood she’d inadvertently brought upon them earlier.

“So it’s just spirits and ghosts?” Thea asked, chin in her hands.

“And demons,” Zed added, “Like that one time John got shot and left for dead by one of his ex-girlfriends and invited a demon to possess him so that he wouldn’t die...but then it went on a killing spree and he ended up in a Mexican jail and we had to sneak in to perform the exorcism, which...let’s just say it didn’t go as smoothly as planned.” She shook her head, chuckling. “I heard Manny got _really_ mad at John for that one.”

“Manny?” Diggle parroted, now paying just as much attention as the rest.

“He’s John’s angel. I’ve met him a few times, but that’s only because I have this psychic...thing. Other than that, John’s the only one who can see and talk to him.”

“Wait, wait,” Oliver made a time-out gesture. “Angels...exist?”

Zed gave him a strange look. “Well, if demons exist, angels have to, right?” Her eyes clouded as she remembered, “Oh, we met this one preacher who had died but took an angel feather and was able to heal all sorts of ailments...but then the people he healed turned into murderous monsters after a while, so we had to end that.” She tapped her chin, thinking of more stories to share. “There was this one mage who kept stealing souls and putting people into comas, including Chas’s daughter, so we blew him up.”

Laurel choked. “You _blew him up?_ A human person?”

“I’m not entirely sure he was human...I wasn’t there for that one, I just heard the stories from Chas’s ex-wife, Renee. Anyway, there was also a bunch of college kids who got stuck in another dimension and kept getting murdered there and then in real life, thus trapping their souls in the other dimension with the murderer. John and Ritchie had to go in there, too, but I think Ritchie was able to take control of the dimension and kick out the murderer.”

“Who’s Ritchie?” Laurel asked, hands clasped together on her lap as she listened raptly.

“A friend of John’s, I suppose. I think he kind of hates John now, after…” she suddenly cut herself off, knowing that mentioning Newcastle when she herself knew next to nothing about the events that took place there would not be a good idea. She cleared her throat. “Um...anyway, uh, what else was there...oh!” she snapped her fingers. “There was one time John trapped Manny in a human body to get him to help out during this one case at the hospital...And there was another time we found a guy who was kidnapping girls and making them marry him in this Satanic ritual, then killing them. It was all very strange, especially when we found out he was just a normal, unpossessed guy.” She fell silent for a moment, thinking.

The rest of Team Arrow were still looking at her with shining eyes and gaping mouths. “So you’re psychic?” Felicity finally asked, “What exactly do you do?”

“Well, I have visions,” Zed explained, feeling a comfort in her chest at having all these people to share these stories with. “Usually when I touch something of importance. I’ll still be here, in my body, but it’ll be like I’m somewhere else in my head. It happens when I touch people, too; I get flashes of memory and emotions. That’s why I try not to touch people all too often. John’s been teaching me how to use these visions, and mostly control them. He’s actually a pretty great teacher when he puts his mind to it and stops acting like such an ass.” That got a laugh going around the room, and Zed smiled, pleased with herself. _Is this what it’s like to have friends?_ she wondered.

“Can you psychically read me?” Felicity asked, eyes gleaming.

“You sure?” Zed asked hesitantly, but Felicity just nodded. “Ok…” Zed reached out and took Felicity’s hand in hers. She closed her eyes and immediately felt a wave of love crash over her. She caught glimpses of Oliver smiling, saying something nice, handing her a cup of wine. She felt a warmth buzzing in her chest that was both unfamiliar yet unmistakable. “That’s a lot of love for one man,” Zed breathed, feeling a smile break out on her face. When she opened her eyes, Felicity was blushing.

“Me next,” Thea cried, holding out her hand to Zed. With a sigh that was half relief (back at the millhouse, she’d been warned against touching either of them, but now that people wanted her visions for personal reasons, it felt nice), Zed grasped Thea’s small hand in hers. There was a pulse of grief, visions of two gravestones―Thea’s brother and her father―then a third, a friend, Tommy. Then there was a scream, a gunshot, and Thea’s mother lying on the ground. There was a feeling of pride rising in her chest, when she found out Oliver was the Arrow. There was a heavy guilt when she found out she had killed Sara. At that memory, Zed snatched her hand away with a gasp.

“What did you see?” Thea asked, eyes searching Zed’s face.

In answer, Zed pulled Thea in for an unexpected hug. “So much pain in your life,” Zed murmured, “I’m so sorry. But this part of your life, the vigilantism, this is what you like to do. It’s what you _need_ to do. Ok, Thea?” She pulled back and looked in Thea’s eyes, and the younger girl nodded her understanding, eyes wet with unshed tears.

Zed stood up, stretched. “I think that’s enough stories and visions for tonight,” she yawned. “I’m headed back to my motel. I’ll be back with John and Chas tomorrow.”

Oliver stood up. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Back in their motel room, John kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his trench coat, Chas following suit. “You’re right, mate,” John sighed, “I owe it to Oliver to help him out here. He doesn’t know what he’s doing―I mean, he’s been killing the poor buggers, for Chrissakes.”

Chas gave a hum of agreement, which may or may not have translated into ‘I told you so’, but John knew Chas would never say that outloud. Suddenly feeling like he needed a distraction, John turned to Chas, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him down so that he could reach his lips. Chas returned the kiss, but slightly hesitantly. “John?” he asked, once they separated, “Is this just to get out of talking about Raven―”

John cut him off with another kiss, licking his lips when he pulled away. “Come on, Chas, mate,” he breathed, “you wouldn’t deny a man of his natural urges, would ya?” He ground his hips against Chas’s, eliciting a groan from the taller man.

“Fine,” Chas gasped, roughly pulling off John’s tie and shirt. “But we’re talking about it after.”

John gave a noncommittal hum, pulling off Chas’s shirt and unbuckling his pants. He wasn’t prepared for Chas grabbing him and literally throwing him onto the bed, and he took a moment to catch his breath while Chas pulled off both their pants. John let out a low chuckle. “Impatient tonight, are we?” he ended with a gasp as Chas pulled his knees apart and thrust two wet fingers into him. _Probably just impatient to have that bloody conversation,_ John laughed to himself, but groaned aloud when Chas twisted and scissored his fingers.

“Come on, mate, fuck me already,” John panted, hands scrabbling at the sheets below him. Chas leaned up to kiss John, slow and deep, which John returned enthusiastically, curling his fingers through Chas’s hair and arching his body into the taller man’s. “Fuck me, Chas,” John all but growled, and broke off into a keening moan when Chas finally rolled on a condom (John had no idea when he’d gotten to that) and pushed into him. He wasn’t properly stretched out, but they were both impatient when it came to that and John had always been able to deal with a little pain. He twisted himself down onto Chas, pushing him in deeper with another lewd sound.

With a low groan, Chas began to thrust, gradually gaining speed. John kept moving and twisting beneath him until finally Chas hit that spot that sent electricity through his spine, and he arched his back and gasped out, “There, there!” With renewed vigor, Chas began pounding into him harder and faster, and John’s moans got louder with each hit. John’s eyes fluttered shut and he gasped for each breath. He let out another helpless groan when Chas’s rough hand closed around his erection and began pumping, infuriatingly slowly compared to the speed at which he was slamming into John’s prostate.

John tangled his fingers in Chas’s hair and pulled him down, muffling his own moans with a kiss. He wrapped his tongue around Chas’s, the kiss messy and punctuated by gasps and groans. Chas moved his mouth down to suckle on John’s neck, leaving John to moan aloud with each heavenly hard thrust. Chas’s grip on his erection grew tighter and his hand moved faster and John began to thrust into it, his hips moving on their own as the pleasure built. Hardly knowing what he was doing, lost in the bliss, John began raking his fingers through Chas’s hair, down his back, panting gibberish and moaning Chas’s name, begging for more.

John’s whole body arched and tightened as he came with Chas’s name on his lips, and Chas came with an answering groan of “Damnit, John” when John tightened around him. They stayed still afterwards, the high fading slowly. John continued to drag his fingers through Chas’s hair, and Chas began to place soft kisses up John’s torso to his neck. With a content sigh, John turned to curl into Chas’s warm body. “What was it you wanted to talk about, mate?” he mumbled into his friend’s― _boy_ friend’s―chest, a smirk in his voice.

As expected, Chas only gave a groan and wrapped his arms around John’s slender body. “You always do this,” he sighed, “But I still love you for it.”

John shifted, sliding closer to Chas. “Love you too, Chas.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Zed hopped off the back of Oliver’s bike, handing the helmet back to him. “Wait,” Oliver said, “There’s been one thing bothering me for a while now.”

“What?” Zed shook out her hair.

“John said something about no longer being single…” Oliver still seemed unable to believe it. “Is that...how? Just, how?”

Zed felt a smirk pull at her lips. “Oh, you’d understand if he told you the _who_. But, it’s not my place to say. You’re going to have to ask him that yourself, Oliver. Anyway, thanks for the ride!” She gave a cheeky wave and turned away from the dissatisfied Oliver to find her motel room, next to Chas and John’s. _I wonder when John’s going to stop being such a mysterious son of a bitch,_ she wondered, then nearly laughed aloud. _Probably never. But Chas is doing him some good. At least he got John to stop going off on his own so much._ She shook her head as she unlocked her room, wondering how Chas’s mothering had finally gotten through to John just because they were screwing now. “Maybe it is true love,” she murmured to herself with a smile.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Oliver sat in the Arrow Cave (the name was starting to grow on him, though he’d never admit it), listening to the rest of Team Arrow talk about Zed’s abilities and John’s enigma. “I just can’t believe he actually got into a relationship,” Oliver cut in, “I mean, we’ve all met the guy. He’s...unlikable, to say the least. And he’s the last person I’d expect to even be _willing_ to be in a real relationship. And who the hell would want to be with him anyway?”

“Don’t overthink it, Ollie,” Thea laughed, “I think it’s cute. He seemed different, anyway, less flirtatious. It was actually kind of nice. I think this is good.”

Oliver shook his head. “It’s just strange. John isn’t John without the constant flirting and sexual innuendos. He even tried to flirt with the guy who was trying to torture information out of him on the island. It’s weird when he just...stops it all.”

Laurel shrugged. “I guess he just reserves it for one person now, right? He’s still the same John, Oliver. I don’t think it’s that big a deal, honestly. Like Thea said, you’re overthinking this. Anyway, he’s here to help us out with these insane people, right?”

Felicity held up a time-out gesture. “Wait, wait, wait. What was he even doing on that island?”

“Looking for some staff of Horace or something. Apparently someone else was trying to get to it, so he had to grab it first.” Oliver shrugged. “He used it to give me a tattoo.”

“What?” Team Arrow said at once, then started to laugh. “Wait,” Thea broke in, “Which tattoo?” 

Oliver lifted his shirt to point out the line of symbols going down his ribcage. “This one. It was some sort of protection thing, stopped me from getting torn apart by an actual zombie.”

“How does he use a staff to give someone a tattoo?” Diggle wondered aloud.

“He took it off himself,” Oliver frowned, trying to remember. “It was like it just sucked the ink off his skin...then he said to check under my shirt and it was just there.”

“Whoa,” Thea breathed. “That’s awesome. Do you think he can teach me magic?”

“You’re not learning magic,” Oliver shook his head. “John explained it to me once. To use magic, your own body becomes an amplifier of the spell. First you have to memorize the spell, gather the ingredients, all that. Then he said some spells have some sort of feedback loop, where the cost of the spell can cause the user pain or takes time off of their life. If a spell is done wrong, the whiplash of magic could be enough to tear you apart, depending on the strength and intent of the spell. John said he doesn’t even use magic that often, because of that.”

“Oh.” Thea seemed dampened. “That sounds...not as fun as I thought.”

Determined to lighten the mood, Oliver added, “But he also said he likes to stay away from too much magic because he keeps getting weird looks from the butchers he has to go to to get gallons of pig’s blood for all the spells. And he’s always broke, and has to end up stealing half the ingredients anyway.” That elicited a laugh from everyone, and Oliver grinned.

“Well!” Felicity said, standing up and stretching. “As much as I’d love to stay and chat about our enigmatic magician friend, we should probably get some rest before tomorrow. Everyone’s schedules are free tomorrow, so we’ll meet in the Arrow Cave first thing and work out a plan with Constantine to take down this evil doctor guy.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Diggle agreed, “See you all tomorrow.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A magic whiplash happens and John is mad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just completely made up the magic whiplash stuff, so bear with me here. Like I said before, just read with an open mind and question nothing, and it'll make some amounts of sense. Hopefully.

John woke Chas with a few kisses, murmuring, “We have to get there before the people who actually work there do.” Chas sat up with a groan, glanced at the clock (which showed it was four in the morning), and groaned again. “Get dressed,” John hopped off the bed, already dressed and rummaging through his magic bag. He heard Chas let out another sigh as he got out of bed and looked around for his clothes.

“The things I do for you,” Chas complained, voice hoarse from sleep, and John grinned down at his bag.

“But you love me,” John sang.

“But I love you,” Chas grudgingly agreed, his arms circling around John from behind. John turned with a smirk, wrapping his hand around Chas’s neck and pulling him down for a real kiss. Suddenly a rap on the door interrupted them. 

“That’ll be Zed,” John sighed, giving Chas a pat on the cheek. “We’ll finish this later, yeah?” Ignoring the urge to kiss that adorable pout off Chas’s face, John went to open the door. “Ready to go?” he asked Zed, who was standing there, looking slightly annoyed.

“Yeah,” she sighed, “I still think it’s too damn early, though.”

“I second that,” Chas called from where he was pulling his shirt over his head.

“Alright, let’s go,” John said, ignoring their complaints and grabbing his bag before he brushed past Zed and walked briskly to Chas’s cab. The two groaned and followed him.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Once again pleased with the fact that no one challenged his smoking rights in the Arrow Cave, John plopped his bag down on top of one of the less-important-looking monitors and began to take things out, laying them across the flickering screen. “What exactly are you doing?” Oliver asked, though everyone else hung back and let John do his thing.

“Preparing a nice little spell for Doctor Huntoon once we find his slimy arse,” John replied with a cheerful grin, feeling the Hellfire blaze in his eyes. Oliver took a small step back, giving a quick nod before moving over to where Felicity was bringing up more information on the doctor and the asylum. “The death certificates were fakes,” John called over to them as he started grinding up ingredients. “He does that; he’ll try to kill them or get them to kill themselves, and if he can’t he’ll just say he did anyway. That’s how he tries to get rid of them. But every time, he underestimates the hatred each patient has for him, and how far they’ll go to survive, escape, and come back to kill him.” He shrugged. “So far, it seems none of them have made it that far.”

Chas sat down beside him, gesturing to the mixture of herbs. “What’s that spell for?” he asked softly.

“This, mate,” John proudly lifted the bowl, “is a torture-until-and-after-death spell of sorts. It’ll trap the man’s soul in his body while sending pulses of pure pain through him until he finally dies, after which I will lift the spell and send his no-good soul straight to Hell where it belongs.” John felt a shiver of excitement run through him at the thought of finally killing that bloody wanker. “Bloody brilliant spell, I’d say.” 

Suddenly Chas’s hand snapped out and grabbed the bowl. “Hey!” John spun around, glaring at Chas. “What the hell, mate?”

“You’re not torturing this guy, John,” Chas said in that slow, gentle way of his.

“Yes, I am, now give me the bloody spell back,” John growled.

“Hey, hey,” Oliver quickly stepped between them. “What’s going on?”

Chas sighed, still holding the bowl out of John’s reach. “John wants to torture this guy again and I said no, so he’s acting like a child.”

“Oh, you do _not_ get to call me a child,” John was itching to finish the spell, the unused magic coursing through his veins, making him feel high and dizzy. “Give me the bloody bowl, or I swear to the devil himself I will make you.”

Chas looked imploringly at Oliver, who sighed and turned to John. “John,” he said softly, “It’s not right to torture someone. We can find another way to end this―”

John laughed. “Not right to torture someone? Oh, that is rich, coming from you, mate.” The magic swept over him in waves, and he could feel his body trembling. “Chas, give me the bowl, I need it,” he gasped, falling against the desk. Chas’s look turned to one of concern, then of suspicion. “I swear this isn’t a trick, I need to finish the bloody spell, Chas,” John held out his hand.

“John, really?” Chas shook his head. “You’re really going to have to try harder than that, I know…” his voice faded out as the unused magic completed its whiplash, slamming back into John’s body with a greater force than he’d imagined it would. It was a strong spell, after all, and it wanted to be complete. John felt his eyes roll back in his head just before everything went dark.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“John?!” Zed ran over from where she’d been watching from afar. “Oh, goddammit, Chas, really?” She toed at John’s unconscious body, now on the floor. “I can’t touch him, does someone want to help out here?”

Oliver picked up John’s body, setting him into a sitting position against the computer desks. “What the hell happened?” Oliver demanded, lifting John’s eyelids and getting no response from the blond magician.

“Magic whiplash,” Zed sighed, “Chas, what the hell, we’ve seen this before, why would you think he was joking?”

For his part, Chas did look incredibly guilty. “Because he’s John Constantine, it’s what he does!” Chas sighed, putting down the bowl. “And no way in hell was I going to let him have at that guy again. He definitely wants to kill him this time.”

Oliver crossed his arms. “Can someone please tell me what John’s connection is with this doctor? And if he’s going to be ok?” He looked pointedly at John’s unmoving body as he spoke. The rest of Team Arrow gathered silently, unwilling to speak.

Finally Chas sighed in resignation. “Ravenscar...well, first of all, you did _not_ hear this from me. Actually, you didn’t hear this at all. Ok?” He glared at each person until they nodded their agreement. “Ok. There was...an incident, which I will definitely not risk explaining, but let’s just say it was a failure on John’s part and it almost mentally destroyed him. So he checked himself into Ravenscar as a patient, stayed there for...about three months. He finally left when one of his old friends possessed another patient to tell him to get out and save some girl, but he was never the same after that. He kept saying things about his doctor, this guy that’s been doing all this, and how his only method of therapy seemed to be electric shock. John has a habit of wanting to punish himself, so I’m guessing that’s why he put up with it for so long, but...after he got out, he went back a few times to visit his old doctor, torturing him with electric shock until he passed out. He never went beyond that, though, but now that the damn doctor’s doing things like this, I don’t doubt that John will actually kill him, and that wouldn’t be good for anyone.”

There was a tense moment of silence, which Zed broke. “He told you all this?” she asked in disbelief.

Chas shrugged. “Over a span of a few years, usually when heavily intoxicated. But yeah, I put it together.” He cast a fearful glance at John’s inert body before hissing, “But if he finds out I told _you_ , he’ll have my head. So this doesn’t get mentioned. _Ever._ Got it?” 

He got nods all around, and Thea spread her hands and said, “Doesn’t it look like we can keep secrets?” That got a half-hearted laugh or two, but the mood seemed mostly somber.

Oliver nodded towards John’s body. “So, how do we snap him out of it?”

Chas rummaged through John’s magic bag, eventually finding a syringe filled with yellowish liquid. “Here you are,” he tossed the syringe to Oliver. “I’m not going to risk being the one to stick that in his arm. Let’s just say he doesn’t wake up from magic whiplashes in a very happy mood.”

With trepidation, Oliver crept forward and pulled John’s sleeve back enough to find a vein. With a nervous glance behind him, he depressed the syringe. Almost immediately, John snapped awake with a yell, his fist smacking into Oliver’s face. Oliver rolled back from the shock of it, gasping, and Thea and Laurel ran to his side. Diggle ran forward to help Chas hold down John until he calmed down, and Felicity and Zed watched from afar. Zed giggled softly, and Felicity gave her a sharp look. “That’s my boyfriend he just hit,” she frowned.

“Sorry,” Zed said, but still chuckled.

Eventually, John quieted. “Owww,” he groaned, shaking his hand and holding his head with the other. “Dammit, Chas, I hate you.” He lay down on the floor with a sigh.

“Yeah, yeah, love you, too,” Chas replied.

Oliver groaned, holding the side of his face. “John, I _knew_ you were holding back the last time you punched me.”

John seemed to be catching his breath. “Sorry, mate, apparently I hit harder in my sleep than when I’m awake.” He rolled onto his side with a groan. “Anyone got any drugs?”

Zed tossed him a bottle of aspirin she’d had Felicity get for her before he’d woken. “There you are, Sleeping Beauty. Now, what did we all learn from this experience?”

“John can punch,” Diggle said appreciatively.

“Chas is a dick,” John moaned.

“John is an idiot,” Chas countered.

Zed rolled her eyes. “No, magic whiplash is dangerous and we shouldn’t start spells we’re not going to finish. _Meaning,_ ” she added, before John or Chas could defend themselves, “we all have to agree on spells before you start mixing stuff and chanting in different languages, John.”

“Fine, fine, whatever, love,” John said, swallowing a handful of pills.

Zed frowned at him. “Don’t take so much or you’ll pass out again.”

“Yeah, but this time it’ll feel good,” John chuckled darkly, tossing the bottle back at her.

“Don’t even joke about that,” Zed frowned harder, but if John cared, he didn’t show it. He just grabbed the edge of the computer desk and heaved himself to his feet.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Magic whiplashes sucked. They left you with a weird sizzling feeling, as if all your nerves had shorted out and kept sparking. They left you with a raging headache that pounded through the base of your skull. They left you with an awful cotton taste in your mouth and the overwhelming urge to vomit every five seconds. Overall, magic whiplashes were typically something you tried to avoid.

John stalked up to Chas as best as he could without falling back down and growled lowly, “No sex for a week.” At Chas’s shocked expression, he added, slightly louder, “I bloody well mean it.” 

“Seriously, John?” Chas asked, groaning when John walked towards his magic bag and ignored him. “You’re being immature.”

“I don’t care,” John said stiffly. “You _know_ how painful those damn whiplashes are. So, that’s your punishment.” He turned to sneer at Chas. “Deal with it like a man.”

Chas rolled his eyes and retreated back to Zed. “What was that about?” she asked, nodding towards John. “You have a punishment now?” Her eyes sparkled.

Chas made sure no one was close enough to hear, then leaned in and murmured, “He said no sex for a week.”

“Oh, dear,” Zed shook her head, then raised her voice to call across the room. “John, that is cruel and unusual punishment. Poor Chas here was only trying to help.”

“Piss off, Zed,” John sighed. “Go have one of your visions or something, maybe you can help us out with the actual reason we’re here.”

“Fine, fine,” she waved a hand in his general direction, then turned back to Chas. “I’m going to help you through this, buddy. You’re going to make it, ok?” Chas nodded morosely, and she nodded and left to talk to Thea and Laurel. _She seems to get along well with Team Arrow,_ Chas thought, smiling softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't ask what was in the syringe, because I don't know


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John goes all-out with Chas's punishment, then there's a discussion on protection spells

Once they were back in the motel room, John slammed Chas against the wall and kissed him deeply, little moans escaping his mouth every time they broke apart. Chas returned the kiss with enthusiasm, hope sprouting in his chest that John didn’t really mean what he said about the punishment. Pulling him away from the wall by the front of his shirt, John plopped Chas down on the couch and straddled his waist, grinding down on him harshly as he continued the passionate kisses.

Chas could feel the blood rushing to his crotch, his erection slowly swelling against the inside of his jeans with every movement John made. He put his hands on John’s waist, helping him move as the blond dragged his fingers through Chas’s hair. The kisses grew sloppier, and Chas began thrusting up into John’s slow movements, wordlessly begging for more. John pulled away from their kiss, reaching a hand down to palm at Chas’s straining cock. “Nice and hard now, are we?” John asked, his voice hot and breathy and his eyes dark and sultry.

“Yes,” Chas gasped out, surging forward into John’s touch, “Please, John, let me fuck you.”

“Mm,” John moaned, putting his hands around Chas’s neck and grinding down slowly on Chas’s clothed erection. “You want to fuck me, eh?”

“Yes, _yes,_ ” Chas groaned, his hips moving helplessly against John’s bottom.

“Good,” John breathed. “Then my work here is done.” He stood up, untangling himself from Chas’s hot and needy body.

“What―” Chas stammered, head still spinning from the unfulfilled pleasure coursing through his confused body. “You―you’re serious? About the punishment?”

“Oh, very,” John smirked, “No sex for a week, a full seven days, and I’m going to make it hell for you to resist.”

“Come on, John,” Chas groaned, but John was walking towards the door. “John!” Chas called after him, but all he got was a middle finger and the sight of that beautiful man walking out the door. “Goddammit,” Chas muttered to himself, his erection still pulsing and straining at his pants.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next day, Chas sat in the Arrow Cave silently, while the rest of them discussed how they were going to break into Ravenscar and get to the doctor’s office. John wasn’t being much help, and had been sent by scary-serious Oliver to make some protective spells in the corner, and Chas was trying to stay away from him as much as possible. Eventually he caught the sympathetic eye of Zed, who made her way over to him with Laurel in tow.

“Chas?” Zed asked, “You look like shit. Is it the punishment?”

“Yes,” Chas groaned, “I thought he was joking, but he was _serious_ about it! And that man can tease like nobody’s business.” He sighed, “A week, a goddamn week. He is such a child.”

Laurel looked confused. “Wait, he’s actually punishing you? For causing the magic whiplash the other day?”

Zed laughed. “Yeah, he’s denied Chas sex for a full week. This should be interesting, ‘cause I’m pretty sure John’s never even gone that long without sex. But when he puts his mind to something, he’ll fucking get it done.” Chas groaned again at that.

“Wait, wait,” Laurel held up a time-out gesture. “So you two…?”

“Oh, yeah,” Chas nodded, “We’re a thing...I guess. It’s sort of complicated, but...yeah, I’d call us a ‘thing’.” 

Laurel put her hands over her mouth. “Oh, my God. And he’s denying you sex for a _week?_ Oh, my God.” She started laughing.

“It’s not funny!” Chas hissed, “You should’ve seen what he did to me last night! It was awful!”

Laurel shook her head. “Uh-uh, I’m stopping you there. I don’t need to know the details of how he probably led you on then left you hanging.”

“Oh, he would totally do that,” Zed agreed, giggling.

“Talking about me behind my back, are we?” John’s voice came from right behind Chas, and he jumped, falling off his chair and scrambling back a good few feet. John was smirking down at him with Hellfire in his eyes, and Chas gulped.

“John,” Zed laughed, “You are the devil, look at this poor man!”

“Oh, but he deserves it, love,” John leaned down to offer Chas a hand, which he didn’t take. “Don’t you, Chas?” John grinned, his voice low and his eyes dark.

“Um,” Chas gulped again, knowing that grabbing John’s hand would be a mistake, yet not knowing what to do.

“You know,” John sighed, standing up straight now, “If you apologized, I just might forgive you.”

“I’m sorry,” Chas said immediately, “I really am sorry, John.”

John grinned, cocked his head to the side, thought for a bit. “Or, maybe I won’t.” And with that, he walked away, leaving Chas looking imploringly at Zed and Laurel, who were holding back laughs.

“You’ve got to help me,” he whispered, “That man can hold a damn grudge.”

Zed helped him up while Laurel said, “I don’t know, Chas, I’m not sure I want to go up against a man with that kind of manipulative power. But I wish you luck in dealing with your...frustrations.”

“I thought vigilantes were supposed to help people in need,” Chas whined, knowing he sounded like a child but not caring anymore.

“Look,” Zed sighed, “Knowing John, he’ll probably cave before you do. He’s not going to take this that seriously, alright? So you’ve just gotta be irresistible in your own way, until John realizes what he’s been missing and sees that the punishment isn’t worth it. Ok?” Chas knew at least half of what she said was a complete lie, but he sighed and nodded anyway. “I’ll get you through this, Chas,” Zed said seriously, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. “You’re not alone.”

Laurel gave a little chuckle. “Well, I wish you luck, Chas...I need to go help the rest with the plan. Seriously, though, good luck.” Chas gave a wave of acknowledgement and she made her way back over to the rest of Team Arrow, who were gathered around Felicity’s main monitor.

“I’ll go see how they’re doing,” Zed added, going to follow her.

“Wait!” Chas hissed, “don’t leave me alone! He’s like a demon, I swear!”

Zed only chuckled. “You’ll be fine for a few minutes, Chas. I just want to see what the plan is so far.” And with that, she was gone. Chas sighed and leaned back.

“Don’t want my company, eh?”

Chas barely managed to stay seated this time, but immediately regretted that small victory when John circled the chair and plopped himself right on Chas’s lap. He looked up through his eyelashes at Chas, licking his lips suggestively. Chas tried to look away, but the Hellfire burning in those intoxicating eyes lured him right back to John. “John, please,” Chas whispered, “not here. Don’t make this awkward in front of all these people.”

John adopted a mock hurt expression. “Aw, now you don’t want me? I suppose I’ll have to work harder to make you want me, then,” he breathed seductively, his words hot on Chas’s neck. Chas stiffened when John pressed his lips against his neck, trailing soft, suckling kisses up to his jawline. Chas barely managed to hold back a lewd groan when John followed them back down again, sucking harder. 

After a few more passes, each more wet and enthusiastic than the last, the magician leaned back to admire his handiwork. He nodded approvingly, then hopped off Chas’s lap. “You’re now free to go, my good mate,” he said sarcastically, with an equally mocking bow. Then he stalked off, back to his magic bag where he’d been apparently making protective spells for Team Arrow.

Chas buried his face in his hands, feeling the heat of his own blush. “John Constantine, you’re going to be the death of me,” he groaned. Then, determined not to be a sitting duck any longer, he made his way over to Team Arrow and his savior, Zed Martin. “Zed,” he hissed when he got there, “I _told_ you not to leave me alone, goddammit!”

Zed took one look at him and hooted with laughter. The rest of Team Arrow stared at them while Chas glared and Zed cracked up. “Oh, my God,” she cried, wiping tears from her eyes, “What did he _do_ to you?”

Finally Laurel seemed to catch on, giggles escaping her. “Chas, you poor, poor man,” she gasped. “I’m so sorry.”

“ _What_ is going on?” Oliver asked, exasperated. “And why is your neck covered in hickeys, Chas?”

“Ask _that_ bastard,” Chas fumed, pointing an accusing finger to where John was innocently humming ‘London Calling’ under his breath as he prepared his spells.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. “What.”

Chas threw his hands in the air. “Never mind,” he huffed, glaring at Zed. “If you leave me alone with him again, I swear I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Zed blinked sweetly at him. “You wouldn’t hurt a defenseless psychic, now, would you?”

Felicity let out a frustrated breath, turning away from her monitor for once. “Will someone _please_ explain to me what is going on here?”

Laurel spoke up this time. “Long story short, John and Chas are a ‘thing’, John’s mad at Chas for the magic whiplash thing, John’s denied Chas sex for a week, and Chas is suffering greatly.” Zed laughed with renewed amusement, Chas glowered with renewed anger, and the rest of Team Arrow was shocked by this new revelation.

“John and...Chas?” Oliver repeated, dumbstruck.

“A _week?_ ” Thea cackled.

“Wait,” Diggle shook his head, “So when did he give you those hickeys?”

Chas sighed angrily. “Not five minutes ago, when Zed thought it’d be a good idea to leave me alone with the tricky bastard.”

“Ooh, name calling,” John’s voice floated up from behind him, and Chas froze. “That oughta add time onto it, don’tcha think?” John slid into their circle, eyeing Zed. “How much longer d’ya figure, Zed?”

Zed just laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, no, I’m not getting in the middle of this one. I personally think the man has suffered enough.”

“It’s only been a day!” John spread his hands. “And I’ve barely even gotten started, love!”

Oliver broke in this time. “John, is now really the time to be doing...this?” he gestured vaguely between the magician and Chas. “I mean, we do have an insane doctor to catch, and I’m sure whatever Chas has gone through has been sufficient in terms of punishment.” He let that sink in for a moment before adding, “To catch this guy, we’re going to need everyone at their best. So, John? Will you put this aside to catch this bastard?”

John was silent for a minute, narrowed eyes flicking between Oliver and Chas. Finally he sighed. “Fine, fine. Chas, punishment’s over. And, I’ve got the protective spells done if anyone wants to start.”

“Thank you,” Oliver sighed. Chas mouthed his own ‘thank you’ to the vigilante, who answered with a tight smile and a nod.

“Who’s up first?” John cracked his knuckles and picked up one of the four bowls of ingredients he’d prepared.

“I’ll go!” Thea jumped up.

“Alright, stand still, love, close your eyes, and try your best not to breathe this stuff in when I throw it on you.” With that, John said a few words over the bowl, then tossed its contents into Thea’s face. She sputtered and coughed, wiping the dust from her eyes. 

“I don’t feel any different,” she frowned.

“You won’t. This is just a simple protective spell, one that won’t take too much off my life. It’s a little weak, since there’s no tattoo to really hold it in your body, so the magic itself isn’t stuck inside of you. It’s a little safer for the person it’s been cast on, especially if their body’s not used to feeling magic. This’ll keep you safe from most other spells, in case someone tries to control you or possess you. It also wards off demons, which is a plus. Anyway, who’s next?”

After doing the same to Laurel, Diggle, and Oliver (John claimed it was easier to just do the people who’d be out in the field), Felicity asked, “But what about Chas and Zed? Won’t they be in the field, too?”

John laughed. “Zed’s psychic abilities make it virtually impossible to cast a spell on her, so she’s safe anyway, and Chas basically can’t die, so I doubt he’ll be having any problems.”

Diggle choked. “Chas, you...can’t die?”

Chas rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because _this_ idiot”―he jerked his thumb at John, who was grinning like the idiot he was―“went and performed some ancient myth of a spell that ended up giving me a bunch of extra souls. So yes, I can die, though it’s very painful and I’d like to avoid it, but I just come back to life and use up another soul.” He sighed. “So far, we haven’t been able to reverse the effects, but I’ve got 34 souls left right now.”

Laurel furrowed her brow. “Why would you want to reverse the effects, especially in a line of work as dangerous as yours?”

“‘Cause it’s unnatural, love,” John supplied, “you don’t normally want to go parading around with someone else’s soul in your body. Could be bad for you in the long run. Just because we haven’t encountered any negative effects doesn’t mean that there are none, so it’d be better to just reverse the spell and be done with it. Only problem is, the spell is from King Arthur’s time, supposedly, and wasn’t even supposed to work. So we’ve got next to no information when it comes to figuring the bloody thing out.”

“Oh,” Laurel said, voice small.

“What I still don’t understand,” Chas sighed, “is why you felt the need to cast that dumb spell on me in the first place.”

John gave him a strange look, like it was the dumbest question he’d ever heard. “Well, I was drunk,” he ticked off on his fingers, “I was leaving you alone at a bar, and I had a bad feeling about the place. Also there was salt there.”

“There was salt,” Chas repeated. “You saw salt, and you thought, ‘Hey, let’s throw this at Chas and cast an ancient myth of a spell that for some reason I have memorized, just in case the bar decides to catch fire and burn to the ground.’”

John spread his hands. “Well, it saved your life, didn’t it? And who doesn’t have that spell memorized? It just rolls off the tongue. Like―”

“Don’t say it!” Chas and Zed shouted at the same time, and John held his hands up in surrender.

“Relax, I didn’t even throw salt at you yet.”

“How do you know that’s even part of it?” Chas cried.

“What kind of protection spell _doesn’t_ require salt?” John retorted. “That’s right―none. So, obviously, it’s part of it.”

“Guys,” Felicity interrupted, “can we please focus before Oliver blows a fuse?” The trio glanced over to see Oliver with his stern and scary face on, and immediately quieted.

“Ok,” Oliver sighed, shaking his head at the trio’s antics, “So here’s the plan.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Constantine pulls a John Constantine, and the Winchester brothers make an appearance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said, just...don't question anything

“What the hell are you doing, John?” Oliver growled into the comms.

“This isn’t my part here?” John frowned at the gate he’d been in the middle of cutting through. “Bollocks, I knew this seemed like a useless gate to be cutting.”

“Goddammit, John, were you even listening to the plan?”

“No. I mean yeah, sort of. I have to cut a fence, right?”

“Jesus―ok, just―Spartan, go watch John and make sure he doesn’t mess this up anymore. Speedy, Canary, you’re with me.”

John jumped as Diggle landed right beside him. “Bloody hell, where’d you fall from?” John hissed, “You damn vigilantes and your bloody theatrics, you’re worse than the angels, the lot of ya.” No one paid him any attention, and Diggle just gave him a cold stare (well, John guessed it was cold. He couldn’t really see the other man’s face under that creepy black mask of his.).

John waved his bolt cutters in the air. “So what do I do with these, mate?” Diggle shook his head, sighed, then gestured for John to follow him. He took off, running silently and low to the ground. John followed the same way, frustrated with all the sneaking around. He’d much rather break in the front door and run straight to that damn doctor’s office, maybe use the bolt cutters to break a few of the wanker’s fingers. He gave a low chuckle at the thought, and Diggle looked back at him, expression unreadable, before running on.

Finally they stopped. “This is the fence,” Diggle whispered, his voice echoing through the open line of the comm. “Cut a hole big enough for a truck to fit through.”

“Got it,” John nodded, and began cutting chain links.

“You’re good if I leave?” Diggle prompted, no doubt in a hurry to get back to his vigilante friends.

“Yeah, yeah, go on,” John waved him off.

“Alright. Arrow, I’m headed back your way,” Diggle murmured, turning and running down the fence again.

“Affirmative.” Oliver’s voice sounded even more serious through the comms than it did normally. “Speedy, circle back around and meet us at the back. John, let us know when you’ve got that fence cut, then we’ll meet you there and you can be our guide through the building.” Apparently, Felicity hadn’t been able to get the blueprints for the old Ravenscar building online, so Team Arrow had to grudgingly rely on John to get them to Doctor Huntoon’s office.

Well, John had no intention of actually following their plan. He’d come to kill the damn doctor, and that’s what he’ll bloody well do. He waited until Diggle was out of earshot, then simply climbed the fence, dropping to the other side quickly and making his way to the emergency exit side door.

“Guys,” Felicity’s voice came over the comms, “I managed to shut down the alarm system, so whenever you’re ready you should be fine. Cameras are also shut down.”

“Great, thanks, Overwatch,” Oliver answered. John suppressed a laugh at the constant nicknames.

“Why don’t I get a dumb nickname?” John had to ask, even as he reached the side door and began picking the lock with two paperclips he’d had in his trenchcoat pocket.

“What do you want to be called, Hellblazer?” Felicity laughed.

John stiffened. “Where did you hear that name?” he asked, his voice almost a growl.

“Um,” Felicity seemed nervous suddenly, “Just―news articles. I did some research on you, before you came in. Some people you know refer to you as the Hellblazer, so I just―”

“Don’t say that name. Ever. Ok, love?” John tried to soften his tone at the end, but it was in vain.

He could hear Felicity gulp before she answered in a small voice, “Ok. Sorry.”

Door successfully unlocked, John opened it quietly and slid into the building, shutting it behind him. Oliver spoke now, “John, is that fence cut yet?”

“Not yet, mate,” John grinned, jogging quickly through familiar hallways to Doctor Huntoon’s office. He wondered if shutting his comm off would attract more suspicion, or if he should just run the risk of the rest of Team Arrow hearing something they shouldn’t. He decided to leave it on, what with all the constant checkups Oliver seemed to be intent on doing. After all, they were bound to find out he’d foiled their plan sooner or later.

John found Huntoon’s office, slamming the door open. Huntoon sat in his chair, but...two other people stood in front of him. Holding shotguns. Completely forgetting about his comm, John spoke without thinking. “Who the hell are you?”

“John, who’s there?” Oliver immediately asked, and with a tsk of annoyance John shut off his comm as the two shotgun-wielding people spun around to look at him.

“Who the hell are _you?_ ” the taller one asked, “And what do you want with this guy?”

“To kill him,” John frowned. “What do _you_ want with this guy?”

“To exorcise him,” the shorter one said. “He’s possessed.”

“Ah, is he, now?” John grinned. “By who?”

The two shotgun-wielders exchanged glances, then shrugged. “Just some demon, man, I don’t know,” the shorter one replied. “Anyway, you know about them? The demons?”

“Oh, I know about a lot more than demons, mate,” John felt his grin growing wider. “You got him secure?” he asked, nodding towards the doctor, who didn’t seem to be doing much other than glaring at them silently.

“Yeah,” the taller one sighed, “Demon’s trap on the bottom of his chair. We’ve been after this guy for weeks, after he started turning out patients as killing machines.”

“Same, same,” John readily agreed, “So, you two gonna torture this wanker?”

They exchanged another glance, then the shorter one said, “Nah, we were just gonna exorcise the son of a bitch. Why?”

John shrugged. “He’s a bastard, is all. The human, anyway, not sure about the demon, but I’m guessing they’re about the same. Anyway, you never answered my first question. Who are you?”

The taller one sighed, and laid down his gun. “I’m Sam, this is my brother, Dean. We’re hunters.”

_No last names,_ John noted, _very well, then._ “I’m John,” he held out his hand to shake theirs, as the shorter one, Dean, put down his gun as well. “Exorcist of sorts.” He nodded to the doctor. “Now, I came here to kill the human, so if you could get on with your exorcism I’d be grateful.”

“Um,” Sam shifted. “I’m not sure we can just let you kill him.”

John rolled his eyes. “Sure you can. Just do your exorcism and be on your merry way. Or I could always exorcise him myself, I’m just a bit lazy. So, what’ll it be, lads?”

“Why do you want to kill this guy?” Dean said instead of answering, “I mean, he’s a doctor at a mental asylum. What harm could he have possibly done?”

“Plenty,” John said darkly. “On with it, then, do your magic, mate.”

“Dean,” Sam said softly, “Let’s just exorcise the guy and then see what’s what, ok? We’ll finish what we came here for, then deal with this.”

“Alright,” Dean grudgingly agreed, “Go ahead, Sam.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Chas sat behind the wheel of the heavy-plated truck that Zed had prepped for hot wiring but hadn’t started the engine yet. The sudden lack of contact with John was beginning to worry him. “If that damn idiot went off on his own again, I swear to God…” Chas muttered, and Zed hummed her agreement from the passenger seat.

“I thought you’d convinced him to stop doing that,” she sighed.

“Nah, he just agreed to it because I said I wouldn’t cook him meals anymore if he didn’t. And you know he hates cooking.”

There was a snort in his ear and Chas started, having forgotten about the comms, and heard Thea’s voice saying, “Wait, you threatened John Constantine with food?”

“Yeah,” Chas breathed out in frustration. “But he almost never keeps his word. It’s the only thing you can trust about him, the fact that he’ll probably double- then triple-cross you. It’s what he does.”

“So, what,” Oliver’s voice came on now, “You think he went in on his own to kill this guy after all?”

Zed snorted now. “That sounds like John Constantine, after all. I was wondering why he’d agreed so readily to your plan after all, but this makes more sense.”

“Don’t joke about it,” Chas said sharply, “Remember the last time John killed someone?”

“That was different,” Zed frowned. “That was a friend. This is...well, the opposite of a friend.”

“Wait,” Thea’s voice was back, “John killed a friend?”

“We don’t talk about that,” Chas and Zed said in unison. There was a heavy silence, before Zed added, softly, “He had no choice.” 

Everyone was quiet for a moment., then Oliver said, “So, should we go in after him? We don’t know our way around the building.”

“Just follow the screams,” Chas sighed. “He’s bound to torture the guy before he does him in for good, after all.” 

Zed put a hand on his arm. “He’s going to be alright,” she said softly, “He always is, in the end.”

  
  


* * *

  
  


“Why didn’t the damn exorcism work?” Dean shouted as books and papers flew across the small office, the possessed doctor struggling in his chair, screaming unearthly screams.

“He’s probably a stronger demon than you thought,” John yelled, dodging a sparking lamp plug that got yanked out of the wall. “Try a different exorcism!”

“You’re welcome to help!” Sam raised his voice over the loud bangs of things falling.

“Satan, lord of all demons, I implore you,” John shouted sarcastically, “take this bloody lost soul back under your wing. And from Earth, let the wanker be gone!” John reached into his pocket, grabbed a container of holy water, and splashed it on him just for good measure. With a screech, the demon leapt from the doctor’s throat and dove down through the floor, back to hell. John leaned forward, pleased when he saw that the holy water had burned into the doctor’s skin.

“What the hell was that?” Sam gasped. “That wasn’t an exorcism.”

“Oh, but it was, Sammy boy,” John said, reaching over to check that the doctor was still alive. He froze when he didn’t feel a pulse. “Oh, no, no, no,” he breathed, “Please tell me you’re not bloody dead, you _useless_ piece of shite!” In a sudden fit of anger, John kicked the chair, breaking one of the legs in and causing the chair to fall over. “Dammit!” he groaned.

“John, who the hell are you?” Dean asked, his rough voice demanding answers. “And _what_ was that exorcism? How did that even work? It was in English, for Chrissakes.”

Frustrated now at the fact that Doctor Huntoon hadn’t survived the exorcism, John let out a huff of air and glared at Dean. “It’s a bloody exorcism, mate, get your head around it already. It’s just a bunch of words and phrases in a particular order. The language doesn’t even matter on most of the younger demons; on some of them, English actually works better, since they recognize it easier. Demons who’ve been out of Hell for a long time adapt to human culture, and thus react more strongly to an English exorcism than any other.”

The two brothers looked at him with blank faces, so John rolled his eyes. “Anyway, I came all this way to kill the damn bastard and now I can’t even do that.”

“Well, you did,” Sam pointed out, “Just...with an exorcism. Of sorts.”

John tilted his head. “I suppose I did then, huh.” He grinned. “Alright, I’m satisfied, then.” He held his hand out once more. “It was a pleasure working with you boys.”

“You, too, John,” Sam said hesitantly, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Yeah,” Dean said, following suit.

Suddenly the door broke in. The three demon hunters leapt back, and Dean grabbed his shotgun from where it was leaning against the desk. John heard Oliver’s voice yell, “John!”

“Oh, shite,” John sighed. “Calm down, mate, these are good guys.”

“What the hell was that?” Oliver growled, and John could see the rest of Team Arrow in the hallway behind him, prepped for a fight. “Why’d you turn off your comm?”

“Well,” John started, “I came in here to kill this guy, right?” He jerked a thumb over to the dead body of the doctor. “But when I got here, turns out he was possessed by a demon, and these two hunters were trying to save him. Unfortunately”―he layered the word with sarcasm―“the poor bloke didn’t survive the exorcism. Long story short, we saved the day, you’re welcome.” He glanced around. “Now, who’s paying for drinks?”

“I like this guy!” Dean grinned, clapping John on the back. “Come on, Sammy, paying for a few rounds is the least we could do for him. He did save us, after all.”

Sam didn’t look too pleased at the reminder, but he grudgingly nodded. “Alright, fine.”

John smirked with victory, turning back to Oliver. “Drinks it is, mate. You’re welcome to join, if you’d like. Oh, by the way, these are the…” he turned around, “Sorry, I didn’t catch your last name.”

Sam seemed hesitant, but Dean readily answered, “Winchester.”

Suddenly John froze. “Winchester?” he repeated. “Sam and Dean...Winchester?” They both gave slow, suspicious nods. “As in the Winchester brothers?” Again, another slow nod. “As in, the sons of John Winchester?”

“How do you know our dad?” Sam frowned.

“Oh, shite,” John sighed. “Is your dad...still alive?”

“No,” Dean said, his face tightening. “What the hell are you―”

“How old were you when he died?” John cut him off, panic surging through him now. He could remember John’s voice now, slurred with alcohol but warm with all the seriousness of the world, _‘I want you to be my sons’ godfather, John. That way―’ his voice cut off with a laugh, ‘―that way, they still got a dad named John.’_ Though they had joked about it, John’s godfather status to the Winchester boys did end up being official, and the thought of failing at that job cut at his heart now. He hadn’t talked to John in years, not since he’d begun his revenge search of the demon who’d killed his wife, and rudely refused the help that John had offered. _‘I don’t need that magic mumbo-jumbo’ he snorted, ‘what I need is someone who knows what they’re doing.’_ And that had been their last conversation.

“It was only a few years ago,” Sam finally answered, and John let out a sigh of relief. “Why?”

“Nothing, nothing, doesn’t matter now,” John laughed, feeling giddy with relief. “Just, wow. I haven’t seen you two since you were young. Sam, you were just a baby, and Dean...a toddler, barely able to walk.” He let out another laugh. “Oh, this is strange, alright.” He spun back around, to where a very confused Team Arrow was blocking the exit. “You can move now, I think we agreed it was drinking time?” John raised his eyebrows expectantly.

“No, wait, what the hell,” Dean raised his voice angrily, “How the hell did you know our dad?”

“We were mates, was all,” John raised his hands in a surrender position. “I knew him before your mum died. Nice bloke, he was.”

“Then why were you asking about when he died?” Sam questioned, eyes burning.

“Just wanted to know what’s what, is all,” John answered lightly, beginning to edge his way towards the door. “Now, how’s about I explain everything over drinks, and―” Suddenly Dean’s fist shot out and snagged John’s jaw, and his head snapped back. “Oh, you bloody bastard,” John sighed. “I’m not going to fight you, so don’t even start―” This time Sam grabbed John by the front of his trench coat, slamming him against the wall.

“Answer our questions _now_ , or we kill you,” the tall, now-intimidating man growled. John flicked his gaze towards the door, but Team Arrow was doing nothing to help. No wonder, he had double crossed them and ruined their plan. Suddenly he felt something familiar, a presence.

“Oh, bollocks,” he gasped, looking down at Sam. “You’ve got demon blood in you now? How the hell did that happen?” 

Sam dropped him in surprise. “How did you know?”

“I can feel it,” John panted, trying to catch his breath, leaning against the wall. “It’s in me, too.”

Dean surged forward. “You have demon blood in you?” he demanded, “Tell us how to fix Sam, how to get him off it!”

“I don’t know!” John held up his hands again. “I swear, I don’t know. It seems...different, in your brother. Weaker, not fully there.”

“He drinks it,” Dean supplied, “It wears off and he drinks more. It’s like...an addiction.”

“Ah,” John sighed. “That kind of power can be very addictive.”

“Are you addicted?” Sam asked, hope shining in his eyes.

“I don’t drink it, mate,” John replied, “It’s in my veins.”

At that, they both reared back. “You have―” Dean sputtered, “ _Demon’s blood_ , in your _veins?!_ Why? And how? Are you a demon?”

“Nope, fully human, unfortunately,” John sighed. “Let’s just say I was dying and a certain demon decided I was too useful to spend eternity in Hell, so he filled me up with his blood and kept me alive to keep on doing my bloody job.” He passed a hand over his face. “To think I’m explaining this to the _Winchesters_ , of all people…”

“What’s so special about us?” Dean frowned.

John shrugged. “Nothing, really. Except your dad. He, ah...I was really hoping to wait until we were at least a little drunk for this, but...bollocks, I’ll just say it. He made me your godfather, after Sam was born.”

There was a tense silence, and John could hear Team Arrow shuffling down the hall, probably to give them more space. It definitely seemed like they needed it, with all the tension building in that tiny office. John took a moment to let them absorb the information, then went on. “Never understood why, I was in this magic business long before he was, but we were best mates and he wanted someone he trusted to take care of his boys. Once your mum died, he refused my help in getting to the demon who killed her. Said he needed to do it on his own, didn’t need my shite magic.” He took a short breather, noticing the glazed looks in the brothers’ eyes. “Anyway, that’s the story.”

“He never mentioned you,” Sam breathed, looking slightly more dazed than his brother.

Dean shook his head in disbelief. “He never even said we had a godfather.” He glanced back at John. “You mentioned magic?”

“Right. Exorcisms and the like. I suppose I never properly introduced myself. I’m John Constantine, exorcist, demonologist, occasional dabbler in the dark arts.”

“Constantine?” Sam gaped. “As in the damn Hellblazer, Constantine?”

“Please don’t say that name,” John groaned. “But yes, that Constantine.”

Dean shook his head. “I think drinks were a good idea, let’s stick with that.” He shook himself off, straightening his shirt and grabbing his shotgun. He walked out of the room, and waved to Team Arrow. “Alright, everyone, we’re going out for shots, on me.”

“Dean, we don’t have any money,” Sam called from the office, but Dean’s only response was a middle finger. Sam sighed, shook his head.

John clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, mate, let’s get some booze in ya. We all need it, eh?” He cast a dark glance at the dead body of the doctor. “I know I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DON'T QUESTION IT


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They all go out for drinks, and new partnerships are formed
> 
> (Also the basis of my possible sequel is formed)

“John, John,” Zed cried, waving her beer in front of his face, “Remember that time you stripped naked and covered yourself in pig’s blood and started dancing around the living room, chanting?”

“That was a bloody useful spell, too,” John nodded in agreement as everyone else cringed at the image. “Chas denied me breakfast for three days after, ‘cause it made the whole millhouse smell like dead pig.”

“Can you not cook yourself?” Dean laughed, knocking back his own drink and waving the waitress over for another. 

“I don’t know if I can,” John said seriously, “Cooking myself may well be a very painful task, I’d think. I can’t imagine surviving hours in a hot oven.”

“Sounds like hell,” Felicity laughed, but John quickly corrected her.

“No, love, Hell’s not as hot as you’d think. I mean, sure, it’s well into the hundreds, but the real pain is in the ground. Bloody glass shards always poking at your feet. Ruined many a pair of perfectly good shoes, walking through there.”

Dean cocked his head. “Where I was, it was pretty hot. And there was no ground. Everything and everyone was hung up by hooks and chains. And we just hung, and the fire did all the work.”

Suddenly John pointed at him. “You were tortured?” he asked in disbelief. 

“Yeah,” Dean frowned, confused. “I got into Hell ‘cause I died. And that’s what they do when you die. They torture you. Sammy here got stuck in the pit.”

“My, my, with my dear old mate Lucifer?” John leaned forward across the table. “How’s he doing these days? I haven’t seen him in ages. Ever since they overthrew him and tossed him into the pit, the Rising Darkness has been getting worse. I keep saying we have to get him out, but none of the other demons will have it.”

“You want to get him _out_ of the pit?” Sam gasped. “Why?”

“To put him back in charge, of course,” John frowned, “Crowley’s been doing a shite job at it, so far. Keeps letting all the powerful ones escape, and I gotta go deal with ‘em all. I say, put old Lucifer back in charge.”

“Wait, what’s the Rising Darkness?” Dean asked, eyes glimmering.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Zed giggled at the looks on Team Arrow’s faces as John and the Winchester brothers had their conversation on Hell politics. They seemed to be getting along well enough. She turned to Chas, who was watching John, rapt. She nudged him. “Chas, you’re going to bore a hole through him with that stare of yours.”

“Sorry,” Chas sighed, turning back to his untouched drink. “He just made me so damn nervous before. He forgets that he’s not actually invincible. I mean, he basically double crossed a group of highly trained vigilantes in order to murder someone, and ended up being trapped in a room with that possessed someone and two crazy people with shotguns.” He sighed again. “And then they turn out to be his godchildren, which just makes this whole thing crazier.”

Zed leaned against him in hopes of comforting him. “Well, there’s one thing about John that will never change.” She waited until Chas met her eyes, then she smiled and said sincerely, “The fact that he needs you.” Chas grins at that, ruffles her hair in wordless thanks. She sighed against him. “You know he loves you, right?” Chas hummed in agreement. Zed continued. “I mean, words are just words, but I see the way he looks at you. The way he acts around you. He isn’t just flirting anymore, he’s...he’s comfortable with you. He likes being with you. And that’s really what love is all about.” She pulled away from him to look him in the eyes. “Isn’t it?”

Chas was blushing, and he tried to hide it by taking a sip of his drink, but Zed knew she had won. “Thank you, Zed,” he said, and Zed could hear the smile in his voice. “I didn’t think I needed that, but...I guess I did. With John...sometimes I forget that he feels emotions, too. But when it’s just us...you’re right, he does let down his walls around me. And that’s the most I could ever ask of someone like him.”

Zed grinned, and held up her drink for a toast. “To true love,” she laughed, and they drank happily to that.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“What the hell are they talking about?” Thea asked Oliver, staring at John and the Winchesters. 

“Hell,” he shrugged in response. _At least, from what I heard._ “They’re a strange bunch, exorcists,” he shook his head. “I’m glad they’re on our side.”

“You’re right about that,” Diggle cut in, “I’m just glad not to be on the opposite end of John’s punch, nevermind the damn magic. But yeah, they’re a scarily powerful group of people.” They all took a moment to stare at the so-called ‘scarily powerful people’, who were now engaged in a chugging contest. Sam ended up giving up halfway through, but Dean and John went to the end, which seemed to be a tie.

“At least they’re getting along,” Laurel added, “I can’t imagine the mess if they were fighting instead of drinking together.”

“I can’t believe they’re his godchildren,” Thea shook her head. “There’s so much about him we still don’t know, and probably never will.”

“I can’t believe he’s basically half-demon,” Laurel snorted.

“He’s a mysterious one,” Felicity sighed from her spot against Oliver’s side. “I tried to do some research on him. All I could find was some punk rock band that he was a part of back in England, his mom’s death certificate―the day he was born, too, that must’ve sucked―and some missing child incident in Newcastle. Other than that, he’s stayed off the radar pretty well. He’s got almost no digital footprints, and he stays out of police databases for the most part. I found a few arrest records, mostly for petty things like starting fights or breaking and entering.”

“Is breaking and entering a petty thing now?” Thea asked, voice dry and sarcastic.

Felicity raised her hands in an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, compared to the stuff we deal with now?”

Diggle leaned forward. “So are we really just going to forgive him for double crossing us? He basically botched the whole plan, ended up killing the guy anyway.”

Oliver shrugged. “I never really expected him to stick with the plan. He’s a con man at heart, after all. And it all turned out well in the end. Plus he’s my friend. So, I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m definitely forgiving him.” He gave Diggle a glance. “Don’t forget what we said about wanting to be on his side, after all.”

Everyone gave hums of agreement, laughing. Diggle raised his glass. “To forgiving friends,” he chuckled with an eye roll.

“To forgiving friends,” everyone chorused, glasses sloshing over and into each other as they all toasted enthusiastically. Oliver grinned as he took a sip of his newly-flavored drink. _This is how is should be,_ he thought, a content smile on his face.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Sam stepped out of the bar, fumbling for his cell phone. He could see that Dean was beginning to like this John Constantine fellow, but Sam was still suspicious. He had heard stories of the Hellblazer, through other hunters and even some demons. He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the Hellblazer was his godfather, and had been ‘best mates’ with his dad.

“Hey, Sam, what’s up?” the voice on the other end of the phone answered.

“Bobby?” Sam sighed. “What do you know about the John Constantine?”

Bobby answered immediately. “I know he’s a dangerous man, and that people around him die. I know that he’s reckless, and doesn’t think things through. I know that he’s a liar and a manipulative, selfish bastard, and he likes to con people. I know that he’s been through Hell several times, and is on the good sides of many a demon. I know that he used to be in a punk rock band back in England. And I know that he’s been alive for an unnatural amount of time.” Bobby stopped to take a breath. “That’s just off the top of my head. Were you looking for anything specific?”

“Did you know him?” Sam asked, hesitantly.

“Why do you ask that?” Bobby replied, instead of answering the question.

“Because Dean and I just met him on a case,” Sam said quietly, “And he said he knew our dad.” He paused before adding, “And that he’s our godfather.”

Bobby sighed and was quiet for a long moment. “Well,” Bobby finally said, “for once, he ain’t lying. He was in tight with your dad and I, for the longest time. Your dad ended up breaking it off when he went to look for the demon that killed your mom, then Constantine went off with a new group of friends who basically worshipped his way with magic. I heard that didn’t end too well, but I won’t get into it. Anyway, all’s you need to know is yeah, he is your godfather, and he was friends with your dad.”

“Ok,” Sam sighed. “Thanks, Bobby. It’s just hard to trust the word of someone whose nickname is ‘Hellblazer’.” 

“Don’t let him hear you say that name,” Bobby warned, “He hates it. Anyway, one of my FBI lines is ringing, I gotta deal with this. Call me if he tries to pull anything on you, I’ll pull up some of my old blackmail material on him in the meantime.” 

With a laugh, Sam said again, “Ok, thank you, Bobby.” He hung up and stared thoughtfully at his phone for a moment. _So he wasn’t lying...Does this mean he wants to get close to us, play the godfather role? Or is he just making himself feel better about cutting it off with Dad?_ Sam shook his head. _That John Constantine is a hard man to read._

  
  


* * *

  
  


John watched Sam come back to the table and sit down with a more relaxed smile on his face. _Probably called someone to check up on my legitimacy,_ John inwardly sighed, knowing that the younger Winchester brother didn’t trust him nearly as much as the older one seemed to. Even now, Dean was staring at John with shining eyes, asking, “Can you really control Hellfire?”

In answer, John cracked his knuckles and grinned. “Prepare yourself, mate, for a magic trick so real it’ll give you flashbacks to Hell.” With a flick of his wrist, he summoned the Hellfire, which came easier than any other magic; it was always there, after all, burning just beneath his skin, begging to be let out and burn something.

“Whoa,” Dean gaped, holding a hand over the searing hot flames that danced across John’s palm, flickering reds and oranges and whites and blues, a whirlwind of color. “That doesn’t burn you?”

John shrugged, feeling the shocked eyes of everyone at the table on him again. “Don’t feel a thing,” he smirked, though in truth he could always feel it, inside of him. Bringing it to the other side of his skin felt just the same. He closed his fist, extinguishing the flame. The rest of the table was silent in reverence. He cast a sarcastic glance around. “What, did my party trick kill the mood?”

“What’s Hellfire?” Thea asked from the other end of the table. “Is that actual fire from hell?”

“Right you are, love,” John toasted her with his glass before downing it. Seeing that he wasn’t going to expand any further than that, Thea turned back to Laurel and began another conversation. John looked back at Zed and Chas, giving them a wink. Chas gave a soft smile, and Zed gave him the finger. _Oh, well,_ John thought with a chuckle, _you can only win over so many._

Zed scooted her chair closer to John’s. “This is nice,” she said with a grin, “You know, having friends, being able to talk about what we do.” She cocked her head at John. “It’s new. Different. But I like it.”

“I’m glad you do, love,” John said sincerely, “With all you’ve been through, you deserve a little happiness now and again.” Zed beamed, and John added, “But, technically, our work here is done now. And we’ve still got the Rising Darkness to deal with.”

“We can help with that,” Dean spoke up from where he’d been listening across the table. “Sammy and I don’t have any more cases at the moment, and this Rising Darkness seems pretty serious. We’d be happy to help you out with it. You can’t say we’re not experienced.”

John tilted his head towards the Winchester brothers in acknowledgement. “Right you are, lads. Can’t say a little help would hurt. I was planning on leaving tomorrow.”

“We’ll meet you,” Sam grinned, “Say, breakfast at the diner next door at about nine, then we’ll get on the road?”

“Sounds great,” Zed glowed, “John, this is what I mean! More people, more friends, it’s great!”

John gave her a smile, then glanced over at Chas. _It’s not easy for me to trust people that quickly,_ John thought, _but they’re my godchildren…_ Chas noticed his glance, and leaned forward to whisper softly in his ear. “I’m proud of you, John,” he said, and John could feel a blush sweep across his face. After a beat, Chas added, “And I love you.”

John twisted in his seat to give Chas a quick chaste kiss on the lips. “I love you, too,” he murmured softly. “And I always will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, if I do end up writing a sequel, it'll probably be focused on the Constantine trio and the Winchester bros fighting the Rising Darkness and maybe getting into Hell politics to fix it at its source. And I really want to bring in the Preacher fandom, too, since it's technically DC like Constantine. Anyway, leave a comment or two, lemme know your thoughts on a sequel, or on this piece of trash here. Thanks for reading!


End file.
